Just a reminder that this next weekend, May 24th and 25th, is the first ever (of many, hopefully) Handworks event in Amana, IA.
At this point, if you’re just now deciding to go, you should seriously consider bringing a tent, because Amana is already a long-weekend destination and this is Memorial weekend. I’m sure most places are completely booked.
If you are headed there, and you know you won’t be spending the entire 16 hours of the event in that huge barn, then you probably want to know what else there is to do in Amana, right?
Well… I’ve no idea. Sorry.
But Jameel does.
At the bottom of that blog post is a list of links you might also want to check out.
I fully expect the antique stores to take a hit on their hand tools this weekend. What do you think?
When you’re at Handworks, if you see a red headed guy with white sideburns, wearing an Eager Beaver t-shirt and a kilt (or… just a red headed guy with white sideburns; who knows if I’ll kilt up the entire time – probably not Friday, as I’ll be coming in from a 4-hour road trip and sitting in a car for four hours in a kilt isn’t exactly fun), furiously chatting the ear off some unfortunate soul, stop me and say, “Hey!”
Seriously, I don’t bite.
Flarn Filth Flarn Filth!
Have spent several hours yesterday and today trying to fettle this sod of a plane and if cast iron burned, it would be in my fireplace right now, going up in smoke!
The blade: It seems to sharpen up OK. In fact, I have some nice razor rash free bare spots on my left arm to back this statement up. But after doing some test passes, I’ll examine the edge again and twice now have noted chips in the edge! (Just testing it on a small cutoff of poplar I had laying around, the rest of which never gave me any problems.) It isn’t exactly crumbling, but I don’t think the steel in this blade is good, for some reason.
The plane: It isn’t adjusting properly. The lateral adjuster keeps catching in the slot in the blade, which makes it hard to adjust left or right, and I can’t get it to NOT catch. There is too much slack in the tab in the frog that extends/retracts the blade. Can’t seem to get it reduced in any way and it takes about three or four full revolutions of the adjuster knob to take up the slack when you reverse the direction.
After having spent a few hours trying to figure out how to resolve these issues, I’m starting to think I won’t even bother with it. Happy to offer it up as a parts plane to anyone who wants it, or for anyone who thinks they can fix it. But I’m not going to give such a plane to someone who is new to the craft as their first smoothing plane. That just isn’t right.
So… Tonight I’ll start on Plan B, which is a Stanley #3 (type 13-ish? I’ve not yet properly looked it up, but it is around there; I’ll get the details on it shortly). I’ve had it sitting around for such a project for a while now, as well.
My love affair with Millers Falls is officially exclusive of their hand planes at this point.
First person to ask for the mf’ing MF No. 9 POS can have it, whether it is for parts or torture. For free (well… I won’t pay money to ship it, so you’d have to cover that part or I’d be happy to bring the thing to Handworks next weekend, if you want it and are attending).
Damn… That was a lot of wasted time. BAAAAHHHHH!!
A little rushed for time, so I’ll have even fewer words in this post today…
Anything with threads gets a little bit of Lithium grease prior to assembly.
This weekend, I’ll spend some time flattening and sharpening the blade and fettling the cap iron to fit properly to the blade before assembling the whole thing and trying it out.
Book Review: With Wakened Hands, Furniture by James Krenov and Students
by James Krenov
This is my fifth James Krenov book and the last of five he wrote before his passing. My version is soft-bound, but the quality is still quite high. After 13 years, the spine and binding seems to be holding up very well. The paper is a good thickness, the text is easy to read and sans serif. Most importantly, the photos are high quality and matte finished. They are well-framed and properly lit to show you all of the grain detail as well as the form. All of this makes for a quality publication.
In truth, if you have not yet picked up any of the James Krenov books to read, this might very well be the best one to start off with! It is lighter on discussion than the other books, and heavier on pictures, with the main focus being to share with you some of the works completed by him and his students at the College of the Redwoods. His goal is, “… to bring this refined work to the attention of the public.” He wants to connect with the kind of woodworker who strives for a greater degree of success, and inspire them to do just that.
The book is broken down into five sections: Workmanship, Teaching, Wood, Creativity, and Fingerprints. The first section is a discussion about the quest for quality. In covering this topic, Mr. Krenov gives us a pretty good synopsis of his life to-date and explains his current role in the school. With references to not buying freshly cut wood anymore or not working in the shop with the students as much as he used to, it is quite evident he is aware of, and has come to terms with, his mortality.
The second section begins with greater detail about the College of the Redwoods, going into the reasons why he started there, though he was propositioned by several private schools, and giving us a rundown of how the program works. If you focus on any text in this book, please make it the second part of Section Two, where he discusses how to get the most joy and satisfaction out of woodworking.
In the section on Wood, Mr. Krenov highlights the absolute importance of not only picking the right wood for your project, but in understanding that wood and its properties in order to make an intimate connection between you and the project. But what should you really take from this section?
One thing Mr. Krenov hopes all students of the College of the Redwoods leaves with is the ability to follow the creative process, from beginning to end, with their work. This is covered in the fourth section, Creativity. Learning how to take an idea from sketch to mock-up to finished piece, dealing with mistakes along the way, is an important part of your work.
“Get wood. Get all you can, and then get some more.”
Finally, in the last part of the book, he offers his insight on leaving fingerprints in your work, doing things to make it your own. This includes everything from wood selection to design, surface texture to joinery, hardware to finish.
After everything I’ve said thus far, I have to be honest with you. I’m not sure I can write a review or summary of this book that is better than the one-line inscription to the previous owner in blue sharpie on the first page:
“To my woodworker, May you continue to learn from life and be fascinated.”
Yeah, that about sums it up.
That last blog entry was a lot of writing, so I’ll try to keep this mostly images.
I spent a few hours down in the basement last night, working on the Millers Falls No. 9 Smoothing Plane…
Oh. My. Goodness. I can tell you now why I’ll never collect or pick up another Type 4 Millers Fall handplane. That orange varnish is horrible. I thought about trying to just leave it, but if you’ll notice in the pre-restoration detailed image, there is a distinct line across the tote near the base. Or maybe you won’t; it’s kind of a crappy picture. In any case, I think it is a break. It didn’t look like it went all the way through, but I needed to examine it more closely to see what needed to be done about it. That meant removing the varnish. Not knowing exactly what it was they used, I first tried lacquer thinner and denatured alcohol, to no effect. I didn’t really think it would work, but… one has to hope, right? I thought I had some green paint stripper laying around. Apparently I didn’t. That meant removing the tacky (as in tasteless, not sticky) orange varnish the hard way – scraping and sanding.
When it comes to removing orange varnish, “MF” has a whole other meaning. But I finally prevailed. Because I didn’t have much time left in the evening, and I didn’t have any weird angled jigs for gluing up totes, I decided to go with
Titebond Hide Glue, holding it in place myself until the glue set. I’ll scrape off any residual glue before I put a few light coats of shellac on the tote.
I decided to do something easy before quitting for the night, so I tackled the small bits.
After soaking for a few hours in mineral spirits, the small screws and bits cleaned up rather easily. I use a Dremel with a small wire wheel on it to clean crud out of threads and such. I noticed the metal tab that holds the frog adjusting screw was originally blued, so, being the bluing expert that I am, I decided to re-blue it! I’m not yet happy with the final polish on the lever cap, so I’m going to give that one more round of polishing.
Tonight I’ll try to tackle the frog and plane body. Based on the amount of plane shavings I found packed UNDER the frog when I disassembled it, I have a feeling I’m going to be filing a bit to get the frog to seat well. (More to come…)
At some point last year, I was at a garage sale just down the street from my house. Due to a combination of several factors – it was raining, late in the season, and pretty chilly out – there weren’t a whole lot of people there, nor had there been a lot of people there that day. Still, I was surprised when I stepped into the garage-turned-workshop to see an old Millers Falls hand plane sitting there with a $5 price tag on it.
I picked it up, popped off the lever cap and took out the blade/cap iron, and gave it a quick once-over for cracks or obvious issues. Seeing none, I gladly gave the man $5 and went home with a Millers Falls No. 9 smoothing plane (equivalent to a Stanley #4).
I didn’t really need the plane. And though I do love me some Millers Falls eggbeater drills, I haven’t ever found an attraction to their planes. My thought was to fix it up and give it away to someone who might need it. But, as is so often the case, life happens. I sat it behind my regular user hand planes and promptly forgot about it.
Then, last week Chris Schwarz had a blog post that caught my eye. Sam Cappo is working on a Perpetuating Woodworking project, putting together a set of tools and building a tool chest, all to be passed on to a needy woodworker who will breathe life back into them as they begin their woodworking journey. Chris is donating a portable workbench but, more importantly, he put out the call for tools, which is exactly the fanfare a project like this needs. Hey, this is exactly what I wanted to do with this plane, anyway! So I contacted Sam and let him know I had a smoothing plane for his project.
This morning, I found myself with a bit of free time at home while we had some house repairs being done. I went into the basement and started getting familiar with the smoothing plane before I tuned it up for use.
Using a Millers Falls Type Study, I easily determined this was a Type 4 smoothing plane, manufactured between 1955 and 1966. Key features of this type include: a high knob and a chunky tote of goncalo alves (instead of cocobolo), a thick red-orange varnish (still partially present), a black frog (all previous types had a red frog), and the famous three-point lever cap. Well, that was easy enough!
Then I wanted to see if the sole was flat enough to spend the time fettling the plane or if there were any as-yet unnoticed defects that might stay my hands before I did any more work on it. I started by laying out some 150 grit adhesive-backed sand paper onto a melamine board to begin flattening the sole. I didn’t do any prep work beforehand, just retracted the blade and sprayed down some WD40 on the sandpaper and went at it. I did not intend on fully flattening the back; I was just checking for defects and to see how much work I had ahead of me. After just a few strokes, I could tell everything looked to be in good condition. There was a small hollow behind the blade opening, and it was going to take a little bit of work to get all of the sole flattened, if I choose to take it that far, but it was in-line at the important parts – the toe, behind the blade, and the heel. I decided to work on it a bit more.
I’d thought about getting a photo or two at that point, but I’d once again forgotten my blue latex gloves, so my hands were a black-stained swarffy mess and I didn’t want to pick up cell phone or camera to get a picture of it. I’ll need to spend a little more time with it later to get the bottom completely smooth, but it shouldn’t be too much work. I’ll hit the sides, as well, just because I figure I’ll clean this thing up as best I can.
Then I went about disassembling the plane, soaking various parts in WD40 (the body and frog), low odor mineral spirits (most of the screws and bits), and Evaporust (the blade and cap iron). As you can see, I did snap a few shots off here. Unfortunately, the wife was home to take her shift (had LOTS of things done to the house) and I had to get to work, so I figured I’d let everything soak for a few hours and then pick it back up again this evening… (more to follow later)
Last Thursday was my birthday; it was a significant one only in that it started with a 4 and ended in a 0. Generally, I’m not a big fan of celebrating my birthday anymore. I’d rather not focus on it now, to be honest with you, but I bring it up because I want to discuss some of the presents I received.
As far as in-laws go, mine are pretty good. They’ve embraced me and all of my idiosyncrasies. More importantly, they enable my woodworking habit. And they always seem to know what I want (thankyouverymuch, Amazon and Lee Valley Wish Lists!).
So I was pleasantly surprised when I opened a few packages that night to reveal Season One and Season Two of The Woodwright’s Shop on DVD. I remember watching Roy on Saturday afternoons on the local PBS station when I was a kid and I looked forward to watching him again as an adult. But because of a busy schedule over the weekend, I didn’t have a chance to sit down and start watching them until Sunday afternoon, during Finley’s nap.
After lunch, I got him down, did a few dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, made myself a cup of coffee, and finally went into the living room and moved a cat aside so I could sit on the sofa. Before I could even select Play All, the cat had moved back into relative position (translation: she sat on my lap). So the two of us settled in and started watching Roy from the beginning…
The point of this entry is not to review the DVDs, so I won’t get too much into the episodes I watched except to say that I’m going to have to watch them over a few times to glean all of the information I can. There are some great quotes here and there, if you can catch them, and it’s refreshing to watch someone work live in front of a camera, with no retakes or editing to make it look better. THIS is reality TV to me.
By about the start of the fourth episode, Finley woke up from his nap. He and his mom came down and settled into the rocking chair for a few minutes. I decided to go ahead and continue watching Roy, partially because… well, I wanted to keep watching Roy. But also because I wanted to see how Finley would react to it.
I have to stop here and explain to you that Finley doesn’t watch normal TV. For the first 18 months of his life, our rule was, “If Finley is awake, the TV is off.” Then we slowly introduced a few things here and there, like Thomas the Tank Engine (complete rubbish, if you ask me; Sir Toppum Hat could increase productivity in his train yard by at least 60% if he fired Thomas and replaced him with a non-speaking engine) and some DVDs of kids’ music and songs. We occasionally watch older cartoons, such as Richard Scarry’s Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes. We’ve tried a few others, like Veggie Tales, but, to be honest with you, he really just doesn’t have much interest in watching TV. He’d rather play. In that aspect alone, I consider myself a successful father.
There is one DVD he asks to watch at least once a week. It is Big Easy Express, which is a musical documentary/concert film/road movie about three bands (Mumford & Sons, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, and Old Crow Medicine Show) and their journey from the Bay Area in California all the way to New Orleans via an old passenger train. He calls it “Mumford Red Train” (because one of the cars on the train is bright red) and when we stayed in the hospital for three days in December because he had RSV, it was the only thing he would watch. I’m sure the nurses thought we were horrible parents for making our son watch some music DVD instead of cartoons. I consider this a second aspect in which I am a successful father.
Anyway, back to St. Roy… So Finley does not watch much “normal” TV. He’s never seen a sitcom nor a contemporary cartoon. He’s only ever watched one Disney movie, Cars, and he doesn’t even get 20 minutes into it before he wanders out of the room to play with his own toy cars. I was interested to see what he would do with Roy.
To my wife’s surprise (and my extreme pleasure), the second I turned The Woodwright’s Shop back on, Finley stopped what he was doing and started watching Roy. It was the episode with the lathe discussions, so there was lots of moving machinery and big wheels (Finley just said the other day that he loves anything with wheels, so maybe that has something to do with it) and wood flying everywhere. At one point, he was demonstrating other techniques to make things round if you didn’t have a lathe and so he sat at his shaving horse with a drawknife, working a stave of red oak and throwing shavings into his face. He stopped to discuss drawknife techniques (bevel up vs. bevel down) and said (paraphrasing), “I can’t get it to work worth a toot this way, so I always use this kind of drawknife with the bevel down.” I’ll have to keep that in mind the next time I try to rough something out with my drawknife.
Finley continued watching through the end of the episode in complete silence, he was so engrossed in the show. At that point, I paused it to go feed the cats, one of which was making her hunger known as she sat on my lap. When I got back upstairs, Finley said, “Dadda, can you turn it back on now?”
Well! Isn’t that music to any woodworker’s ears? Your not-quite-three year old asking you to turn Roy Underhill back on! I did and we started watching Roy make a rocking chair. After that episode, I turned it off so we could go for a walk before I got supper started. But I was curious as to what Finley thought about the show. I don’t have to tell you by that point I was envisioning sitting down with Finley every Saturday afternoon to watch the latest episode of The Woodwright’s Shop, do I?
Me: So, Finley… did you like watching Roy? Did you like The Woodwright’s Shop?
Me: What part did you like best?
Finley: I liked… I… Roy Underhill talks about… he talks about…
Finley: He talks about toots.
Me: … eh, what?
I had no idea what he was talking about. Then it struck me. He was talking about Roy’s description of using the drawknife bevel up or bevel down in the third episode. “I can’t get it to work worth a toot that way.” Somehow he latched on to the only bodily function (aside from bleeding) Roy mentioned, and managed to take it out of context. Got it. OK, so we still have a little ways to go. But the interest is obviously there.
If you’d asked me before yesterday afternoon what I thought my favorite episode or part from The Woodwright’s Shop was, I would have answered Episode One of Season One, because I love the idea behind being self-sufficient, making the things we need, using energy from the sun via the vegetables and fruits we grow and eat to power our muscles. It is fairly close to how I was raised on a farm in small-town Washington, Missouri, now 40 years ago. I’d seen that first episode at some point later in life and his opening message to the start of his 31 year career was so passionately delivered it has stuck with me all this time. Now, though, I’d have to say it is Episode Three of Season One, simply because it’s the first one I watched with my son.
If you ask Finley what he likes about Roy’s show, he’ll say it’s because Roy talks about toots.